Because Orange Is The Colour of Basketball
by Dark Flamingo
Summary: Taruto would always be just that, the loud often frustrated boy standing in Pudding's screaming shadow. Taruto would always be 'that boy who got hit by a bus', but not to Pudding.


Ah-HA! I'm not dead yet! So, having recently discovered this fact, I decided to celebrate by scrounging this up, finishing it up and posting it for all of you's to see!

Heh, I'd like to point out that I haven't completely edited the last bits, so if you spot a mistake feel free to shove it in my face. As well, the tone of the writing may change cause there's a big space of time in between the start and finish.

Disclaimer: Yes. I definitely own TMM. And look over there! A flock of flying pigs!

* * *

She shouldn't have been surprised. She knew that, even as her heels lifted off the dirt caked flat stones that covered a patch of her sorry excuse of a backyard. 

She had seen the moving van and watched cardboard boxes brimming with things and two men shuffle a slightly sagging deep green couch through the door, and she'd even watched someone plant a tall plastic basketball net up in the small backyard next to hers'.

But she still gave a start when an unfamiliar boy's voice called out a 'hey' from barely ten feet away. She turned to look at him, lowering her arms mid-toss, grimy basketball firmly tucked in her grip.

The boy had short tousled brown hair that looked like it was about to slip to cover his hazel eyes at any moment, and probably did often. He wore baggy clothes a size to big and bright orange sneakers. Orange, the colour of basketball.

"Nice basket," He commented, flicking his chin towards the beaten wooden basketball net behind her. There was a wide, shallow dent in the center of it and one of the corners was broken off leaving jagged spikes of wood to spear the dimming sky.

She figured he was being sarcastic, so she looked back at the plank of wood strapped to the short wooden pole. She bounced her ball off the backboard and caught a flash of bright orange beneath its' layers of dried mud before letting it fall into her hands again.

"Used to have one like it," The boy said conversationally with a smile, leaning on the small brown fence stretched in between them. She blinked in surprise, he had such a pretty net, it was hard to believe that he'd once owned a sad, ragged net like hers'.

"Well, actually it was in the park near by, made this perfect thump if you hit it dead center," He continued, taking a swipe at his messy bangs. She grinned cheerfully, feeling less shy now,

"What about that one?" She asked pointing at the plastic net stretching much higher than her own. The boy made a face as she returned to bouncing her ball off the uneven pavement.

"Sucks. Completely new," He slid his fingers under the layer of hair that had fallen over his eyes and pulled them out of the way. She grinned and held her filthy ball up to her chest,

"I'll help you wear it down," She offered friendly. The boy hesitated for a moment then a corner of his mouth slid up his face, "Sure," He leaned down and disappeared for a moment behind the trembling brown fence then came back up holding a cleaner example of a orange ball.

"I'm Pudding," The girl supplied after a minute filled with the hallow thuds of their basketballs ricocheting off the backboard and the soft whoosh of them falling through the net made of such a clean string it almost sparkled.

"Taruto," He replied, voice accompanied by the soft hallow thunk of his fingers clasped around his balls' rubber surface.

They were just past the childish days of seven and eight, and hovered before the awkward life of preteens in their tenth years, at least Taruto was already there, Pudding still had to endure the wait until fall.

So it was all right to spend time with someone of the opposite gender, accompanied by a few minor unspoken rules. Like, that neither ever set foot in the others' house, only together during their occasional basketball rounds, in which they'd slam their basketballs into Taruto's clean plastic net.

Their games grew more often, and soon they realized that, although they went to separate schools, said schools were close and their routine paths home would soon intertwine, finding the two trotting down the sidewalk, Taruto bouncing his ever-present basketball, while Pudding chatted on about anything and everything

After a month they started biking around their neighborhood. They didn't live in the best place, but not the worst either. There, people grew up being taught to listen carefully and quietly, but with everyone listening, they needed someone to listen to.

And that person was Pudding.

Mothers out with strollers would wave as the two sped past on their bikes, tires churning quickly, and people on their way to work would call loud greetings, and within a handful of days Taruto knew nearly everyone.

-x-

Winter was over, every last trace of it had long since evacuated the area, seeing as Taruto had moved in early spring, just missing the drifts of half-melted snow and patches of thin ice, and now that warm weather was ever-present the ice cream trucks began their first routes of the season.

And what's this? It seems their regular bike routes directly intercepted the majority of said, sweet bearing trucks, meaning a good break and popsicle was in great need.

So the two kids plumped down on the grass by the road just inside the light shade a budding tree could offer and proceeded to devour their ice cream. Taruto swiped at his long bangs and tossed his head slightly in an attempt to rearrange his hair.

"Hmm…" Pudding hummed into her drumstick, brown eyes narrowing in consideration, bottom lip curling slightly. "What?" Taruto asked, knowing her display of thought was directed towards him.

There was a brief pause then she grinned and dropped her ice cream onto the wrapper by her side on the scraggly spring grass, and popped to her feet, rummaging in her pockets, Taruto watching her over his own light blue ice cream.

With little struggle the blonde produced a pair of ginger hair elastics with a satisfied smile. She fell to her knees next to him, grass and mud plastering themselves eagerly into her jeans.

Taruto flinched away when her hands began their trek towards his brown locks. She lunged after his hair and clasped a handful in between her fingers and began a process of pulling, gathering and untangling.

"Ow ow ow—Ow," The boy chanted, free hand plastered to the side of his head as strain was put on his scalp. Pudding twisted one of the hair ties in and jumped over to his other side, beginning another round of pain.

Thankfully after a few moments she released him and Pudding leaned back on her heels, self-satisfied and elastic-less. Wincing Taruto brought his hands up to his hair and fingered it nervously.

He found his mop of hair had been ordered into two semi-loose ponytails on either side of his head, leaving only one layer of bangs to drift over his brow.

He grimaced slightly, noting how childish he must've looked. But Pudding was grinning and telling him he looked so nice that way, her slowly melting ice cream forgotten. Taruto smirked into his own popsicle as the soggy sweet slithered onto the grass.

But not all of Pudding's experiments with Taruto's hair turned out good, or successful. A few days after she'd yanked his hair neatly out of his face, a horrible encounter of Pudding and scissors left him wearing a baseball cap for a good two weeks.

They were walking home, on the last legs of school and Pudding had wormed her way onto the subject of his name. "It's too much of a mouthful, na no da," The blonde complained, twisting one of her short braids around one finger.

Taruto raised one eyebrow and released his bike handle for a moment to tug his cap lower over the straggly clumps of his hair. Pudding didn't always add 'na no da' to her sentences, but the phrase appeared every once and a while, it was like a childish habit she had yet to outgrow.

"Well, then so is Pudding," The boy retorted, finding nothing wrong with his title. She smiled, "You should shorten your name," She continued on, ignoring his comment.

"I mean, pudding is a stupid name too," Taruto persisted on, switching gears with an audible 'click' from his bike.

"You need a nickname or something," Pudding chattered on. She was, after all, infamous for talking, and not listening. Taruto's upper cheek twitched slightly in frustration,

"F-fine I'm dubbing you Pud," The boy growled gliding beside Pudding, who was swinging her bag absentmindedly. Taruto didn't have a schoolbag; he never did any homework.

Suddenly Pudding came to a halt and Taruto squeezed his brakes stopping a few feet ahead of her. A grin worked its' way onto her face and Pudding announced, "You're name is Taru-Taru!"

Taruto nearly lost his balance; thankfully his bike was there to halt his fall, "How is that a shorter name?" He demanded loudly.

Pudding just skipped past, schoolbag slapping her thigh rhythmically. "So you up for basketball?" She asked cheerfully, ignorant of her friend's anger.

The two had long since worked into the pattern of slamming basketballs into Taruto's basketball net ninety-nine times a day, trying to soften the plastic or break it. Either would work.

"I'll race you Taru-Taru," Pudding offered after the reassurance that Taruto would join her in basketball soon. The boy smirked and sped up, feet and pedals a whirl as Pudding scrambled into a run.

Taruto pedaled onto a one-way street ahead of them, marking the fact that they were halfway home. Pudding saw the car before Taruto did.

"Taru-Taru!" She shouted, the boy looked over his shoulder and then spun to stare down the street. In a screech of bike tires Taruto came to a sudden stop and jerked back so fast he fell in a crumpled pile, tangled up with his bike.

The driver honked angrily as he drove past, as Taruto inspected a cut on his elbow. "Taru-Taru, are you okay?" Pudding called, still running to the edge of the road. He threw her dirty look, "I'm fine!" He shouted back, as if it should go unsaid how fine he was.

He began scrambling to pull himself free of his bright red bike as Pudding leaned over braced on her knees, having reached the sidewalk, and panted heavily.

Taruto crouched next to his bike and strained on his shoelace trying to pull it free of the spokes on his bike. He was muttering darkly under his breath, a trickle of blood was slithering down his knee.

Taruto was slowly rising to his feet, wincing as his knee stung painfully. Pudding looked up and smiled, opening her mouth to say something before a loud honk cut her off.

Right in front of her, a distance that was so small she could've stretched out her fingers and brushed the glass, or maybe even caught a lock of Taruto's unruly hair.

But it passed in a split second and suddenly he was being flung backwards like a rag doll, the bus was swerving in a loud screech of brakes and the passengers were squealing like pigs.

Pudding was watching Taruto flying through the air, a spurt of blood following him, a wheel of his bike tangled with his leg, the rest lay crumpled under the bus. "Taru-Taru!" Pudding screamed and ran, forgetting that she had been exhausted only seconds before.

She stopped five feet away from him, stomach rolling at the sight of the pool of blood forming around his leg, and the hideous gash carved into his temple. But more than anything, the thing that scared her most was the glazed over look in his hazel eyes.

As if he was seeing… but not seeing at the same time.

"Taruto," She whispered, suddenly unable to move, lungs strained and knees wobbly, "Taruto…" She was aware of the moisture slipping from her eyes, and the strong scent of blood gathering in the air, but it didn't seem real. None of it did.

His bright red and blue baseball cap was slipping off his head, revealing the corrupted mess that was his hair, choppy and tangled, stained with blotches of blood in some places, shiny clean in others.

His navy basketball shorts were dirt streaked and the hem had a dot of blood on it, his t-shirt looked nearly untouched, scratched only by the small specks of gavel that littered the road.

If she didn't look at his leg, and avoided the slash in his head he looked almost like he would spring up at any minute and challenge her to a game of basketball. But then her eyes were drawn to the blood pooling around his shin like a magnet to metal.

Her eyes overflowed and her brain throbbed. Pudding laughed. Her knees collapsed beneath her and her eyes flooded, but she kept on laughing and laughing. Watching the pool of blood grow and inch towards her she laughed.

She laughed until her throat hurt and crackled and her heart squeezed tighter and tighter until she could barely breath. She laughed until the life was taken right out of her.

—x—

The wooden basketball hoop in her yard seemed lonely, without Taruto there with her. The cracks in the concrete under her bright orange sneakers seemed bigger and more threatening than ever before, straggly clumps of grass scrambling for sunlight prodding out of the fissures.

Her small, pathetic excuse for a backyard seemed slightly smaller, or larger, without him. The rickety gate seems forbidding barring her from the small field dotted with dandelions. The world just seemed a little duller.

-x-

"Hey Taru-Taru," Pudding chirped skipping over to his hospital bed. Taruto had his own private room, a small space all painted white, broken only by the window, pictures and the little lights that adorned the medical equipment standing at attention by the boy's bed.

He was asleep; he was more often than not, crumpled, disarranged hair plastered to the white pillow under his head. White bandages wrapped around his head kept his bangs far from his eyes.

Her smile faltered the slightest bit and her eyes flickered towards his leg suspended a foot in the air; a cast wrapped around the limb made it appear twice as thick. Lying next to Taruto's side was his clean orange basketball.

She sat down on the lightly cushioned chair standing at attention in arms reach of Taruto. A spot of green on the bedside table caused Pudding to look twice. Standing out sharply on the pale wood of the table was a four-leaf clover wrapped in plastic, a ring of twine attached to it.

The girl smiled and fingered the lines of the plant through the plastic. Not many people had stopped by Taruto's room in the past week and a half; a few boys from his school had stopped by earlier on, and a couple appeared a few days later, but aside from his parents, no one had really bothered to check in on 'the boy who got run over by a bus,'

Sure, Taruto had met nearly everyone worth knowing in the neighborhood, but they didn't know him. He was different, the one boy on the block who hung out with a girl and ate sea salt ice cream.

He stuck out like a sore thumb, even as he stood in the talkative shadow of Pudding. Always throwing in an odd comment but never loud enough to be worth listening to, not when Pudding was there to hear.

He was different, the short-tempered short kid a grade and a half ahead of everyone else his age and able to easily beat everyone a grade and a half ahead of him in basketball. He had the tousled hair and piercing eyes to call forth an army of fangirls, but the attitude of an angry child to expel said, army of fangirls.

Pudding began talking. At first she was talking about a school track meet, then about her annoying math teacher, then the weather, the cafeteria food, if Taruto's school even had a cafeteria, and a cartoon show she'd seen the night before.

She talked about anything that came to mind, switching topics halfway through sentences sometimes. She talked to fill up the silence in the white room; she talked to fill up her own ears, to fill her own mind with her endless gabble.

She chattered on and on, as if trying to fill the room with so many words the walls would be speaking to each other for the next ten days. She danced through a variety of topics but finally landed on basketball. It always came back to basketball.

She hadn't really been that into basketball before Taruto had moved next door. It was more of an occasional pastime then a hobby. Taruto had turned it into something of a lifestyle for her.

It was hard not to like basketball around Taruto. The way he'd perked up at the very word, and got a competitive glint in his eye when the thought of a game floated his way, made it nearly impossible not to start talking about the sport.

As she chattered on about the basketball game that was held at her school that day, Pudding could've sworn she saw a smile tugging at Taruto's still lips. She was just running out of things to talk about on the sport when his eyelids fluttered open as he yawned hugely.

With a content hum he blinked blearily at the girl, "I wish I had some sea salt ice cream right now," He said slightly wistful. Pudding grinned in reply, "All the food they feed me here doesn't have an ounce of sugar in any of," Taruto ranted on grumpily.

"Yeah, I heard the food here sucks," Pudding quipped, "But I always thought it was exaggerated, na no da. But if you say so then I guess it must really, really suck because you eat almost everything that you see and…" Her voice faded off when she realized that Taruto had fallen asleep again, breath deep and slow once more.

For the rest of her visit Pudding was silent, staring blankly at the white wall next to the window.

A chickadee that knew the blonde girl well stopped by the window to greet her and immediately became worried at the sight of Pudding with her mouth closed. The bird flew off to inform her friends and soon the sky was filled with the bird's evening gossip session.

—x—

When Pudding arrived the next day she clutched a crinkly white package, small enough to fit neatly in her hands. She slipped down the quiet bright hallways and into the boy's room, mood brightening when she spotted Taruto upright in bed, face turned towards the window.

"Taru-Taru," Pudding chirped prancing over to the small wooden chair before unceremoniously flopping down onto it, "Guess what I brought you!" She sang, waving the small white plastic wrapped object in the otherwise still air.

Taruto turned slowly, blinking blearily as if woken from a deep sleep and took one look at the object in her hands before his face split into a wide grin. "Thanks Pudding," He snatched the thing from her grasp and tearing open the wrapping to reveal the light blue popsicle that had been the object of his desirers for the past three days.

"I mean it," He added, to ensure his thanks were received before slurping away at the already melting treat. Pudding smiled cheerfully, feeling a happy bubbling rise up inside her stomach. As the boy licked the last few spots of ice cream off the stick Pudding opened her mouth to speak.

"Taruto… we're moving,"

Taruto stared at her silently for a few long moments while the blonde squirmed under his gaze. "Oh," The boy finally said, "When?" Averting his gaze to the wall parallel to him. "Soon, I'm not sure, we still have to sell the house,"

"Oh…" Taruto's face fell and he dropped the bare popsicle stick onto the lunch tray resting on his side table, already his eyelids were drooping, "Well… that sure..sucks," He mumbled the last word before a small sigh ghosted over his lips and he slumped lower in bed, chest rising and falling calmly.

Pudding sniffed and rubbed at her nose. She felt like she was abandoning Taruto, leaving him to slowly rot of boredom in the hospital. But he wouldn't be lonely, no he, he had his brother. And his parents, they'd all visit him and… Pudding sighed shakily and rose uncertainly.

"Our teacher's been prattling on and on about algebra next year, threatening us that we'll all flunk if we don't try harder in life." She took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, nibbling on the inside of her lip to stop herself from potentially crying, "So I'm gonna try hard in life, na no da. And you'd better too, cause when I come back I wanna see you on the courts,"

-x-

After that Pudding never did talk to Taruto about her moving again, instead he seemed to have lapsed back into sleeping more often, and when he was awake he wanted to hear of school, and basketball and only wanted to complain of the food and beg for more ice cream.

After two weeks, and they were three days free of school Pudding pranced into Taruto's blank hospital room with an armful of sea salt ice cream and dumped the pile onto the boy's bed, but he only shifted slightly in his sleep, chasing dreams around his head.

Pudding chattered on about neighbour's summer plans, and the farewell party they'd thrown for their english teacher and basketball. Always, always basketball. After what felt like hours but was probably only one Taruto stirred and cracked open his auburn eyes drowsily.

"Pudding?" He muttered, yawning hugely and trying to sit up with his leg suspended above his head. He caught sight of the packages of ice cream and grinned instantly reaching for one and viciously ripping it open, Pudding joined him and they sat in silence for a few moments, happily slurping away at their ice creams.

"Puddin'?" Taruto broke the comfortable silence, his bright eyes questioning tearing open another white wrapping to devour the inside treat. Pudding smiled widely, but it was slightly forced and faltered a little. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning, I came to say good bye," She lowered her eyes onto her melting popsicle, watching beads of blue fluid slip down her fist.

The boy snorted, "So you didn't just come here to make me fat and invoke the rage of the nurse?" Pudding's head whipped up and she grinned, "Nope!" Her face relaxed into a more serious expression. "I am gonna miss you, Taru-Taru, I feel like I'm…dunno, abandoning you, or something," She said shyly to Taruto's pillow.

Taruto slurped on his ice cream and shrugged, "Nah, it's cool. But you'd better write, or something, I'm not letting you completely ditch this town," Pudding smiled sincerely, softly. "Of course,"

—x—

Pudding went through the next two years following a certain set of rules, whenever she spotted something that reminded her of Taruto or seemed like something he'd like she snap a picture of it and post it to him in a bright orange envelope every time. Because, orange was the colour of basketball.

After a little while there were small packages arriving in the mail, bulging with pictures of ice cream stand boasting the best 'sea salt ice cream in the world,' and basketball courts, and a melted blue puddle of what could've once been ice cream.

There were pictures from her new school, shots of her friends, of their basketball team winning the board competition, of their Sleepy Hallow play, of the mountain of basketballs that claimed a corner of the equipment room in their gym.

There was a picture for everything in her life, everything that mattered to Taruto, everything that mattered to Pudding, and everything they shared, or could've. But it didn't bother her, and she never thought that way. Everything was bright and cheery in her often off center shots.

As two years spawned a third her pictures got better, clearer, more focused, and in one of the girl's lengthy, chattery letters she explained she had taken a quick course on photography. As the fourth year was half-way through it's life it got nostalgic and sent Pudding home for a week.

"Taru-Taru!" she screamed, happiness bursting from her as she flung herself around the boy's thin shoulders, knocking the bright orange ball out of his hands. She hadn't gone to the hospital, or his house first. She had hurried straight to his school, where'd he be. She wanted it to be so, and thankfully it was, her head feeling light and pinpricks of water stabbing at her eyes she squeezed him tightly.

"Pudding! Stopit!" Taruto grunted, flailing his arms to no avail, he'd changed, she noted, grown a bit taller, grew his hair out a bit. But as she clung to him happily, smelling sea salt ice cream and sweat and the rubbery smell of basketball, she knew that he hadn't changed a bit.

Taruto would always be Taruto. And orange, would always be the colour of basketball.

* * *

Welp, can't say I'm bursting with pride, but at least I have something to stuff into my new community! And if you'd be so kind as to click that little button down there... 


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